The Night He Chose Her, I Chose My Revenge Chapter 22

The Night He Chose Her, I Chose My Revenge Chapter 22

That crying jag drained the last of my strength, but it also seemed to wash away five years of accumulated dust.

Mom held me until my trembling shoulders slowly stilled.

Dad walked over, his large hand resting clumsily but firmly on the top of my head.

“It’s all right now, Elara. It’s over.”

Liam leaned against the doorframe, his voice as calm as ever but carrying an unshakable strength.

“Mom, Dad, and I will always be here for you. Always.”

I looked up at them, my eyes filling with tears again. This time, they were warm.

They found me the best hand rehabilitation specialist in Austin.

After several weeks of treatment, the doctor told me that while my hand would never return to the peak condition required for drawing precise architectural plans, it was more than enough for playing the piano, hugging my family, and picking up a brush to sketch a new life.

That was enough.

I also started seeing the old friends I had lost touch with in Charleston.

They didn’t press me for details. They just took me with them, like before, to wander through the markets on South Congress and drink beer on the grass at Zilker Park, talking about the boring, brilliant old days.

After one gathering, we parted ways at a street corner.

Liam’s car was parked nearby. He didn’t rush me; he just leaned against the door and waited.

In his arms was a brown paper bag from Franklin Barbecue, the signature brisket still steaming.

The wind blew from the street corner, dry and warm in a way that only Texas can be.

In that moment, I felt it. I was truly, finally home.

One month later, my whole family accompanied me back to Charleston to finalize the divorce.

When the plane landed, a familiar damp chill crept into the cabin.

Mom immediately took a thick cashmere shawl from her bag and wrapped it around me, the ache in her eyes nearly overflowing.

“Charleston is always so cold. You’ve been afraid of the cold since you were little. I don’t know how you survived all those years.”

I held her hand and smiled. This time, I didn’t feel the chill in my bones.

Liam had already sent people to monitor Julian’s every move.

On the way to the law office, he handed me a hot coffee, his tone as matter-of-fact as if he were reading a financial report.

“No need to be nervous,” he said. “The Croft Group hasn’t formally filed for bankruptcy yet, but it’s an empty shell.”